Mother of thebride or baglady? Youdecide!

I don’t know how it happened, but I am about to be one of the worst mothers-of-the-bride in fashion history.

My 26-year-old daughter, Ellie, is getting married to her love, Jamison Nay, on March 2 at the Wolfeboro Inn.

I am not one of those mothers of the bride who tries to commandeer the wedding, control the guest list or demand her daughter buys ugly centerpieces for the tables at the reception. That’s not me. I believe the bride and groom should have the final say on all of those matters.

My failure as mother of the bride is in an entirely different area — I hate buying dress-up clothes. And, that’s a big problem.

As mother of the bride, there are certain expectations about how you will look on your daughter’s special day. The main focus — as it should be — is on how the bride looks. But, the mother of the bride has several moments during the ceremony and reception where she has to look her best. And that means a dress — but not just any old dress. We’re talking about a fancy, over-the-top, lacy, shiny, eye-popping, show-stopping, red-carpet-ready, va-va-va-voom kind of number.

There was a time in my life when that would not have been a problem. In my younger days I loved shopping. My closet was full of lovely outfits I would wear with matching suede or leather pumps.

That seems like a lifetime ago. These days, those darling little pumps have been replaced by ancient, scuffed up Dansko clogs. The lovely, stylish outfits of my younger years have turned into serviceable black pants, a black V-neck T-shirt and a cardigan sweater. Though I admire nuns greatly, I never envisioned looking like one! Somehow, between my crazy job and raising seven children, I have lost the zest for dressing.

That’s what made last Saturday so difficult. I had been avoiding the inevitable dress shopping for months and had made a date with Ellie and my oldest, daughter, Emily, to shop for a suitable mother-of-the-bride dress. We were to devote the whole day to it — my two gorgeous, stylish daughters who routinely manicure their nails and their mother/nun, who bites hers.

We went to the new outlet stores in Merrimack, N.H., and hit Saks Fifth Avenue and Bloomingdale’s. This was serious business. A dress needed to be purchased by day’s end. The girls loaded the dressing rooms with dozens of beautiful dresses with plenty of oomph. I tried on red ones, blue ones, gray ones and brown ones, too. There were dresses with too little material and some with too much. There were puffy ones with stiff petticoats underneath and some with big bras sewn in. They all had big price tags and I looked ridiculous in every one of them. It was miserable.

So that the day would not be a total loss, we did a little shopping for Ellie. She got a beautiful white dress for her rehearsal dinner, some sequined shoes to match her wedding dress and a beautiful necklace.

By the time we got home, it was 7 o’clock and still no mother-of-the-bride dress.

“Don’t worry,” I told the girls when I dropped them off at Ellie’s house. “The day isn’t over yet.”

I drove directly to the Fox Run Mall in Newington, went to the cocktail dress section at Macy’s, tried on one dress that cost $129 and bought it immediately. The entire process took less than five minutes.

The dress is very elegant — a black tea length A-line with three-quarter length sleeves accented by rhinestone buttons. It has a plunging neckline, but is actually quite tailored with a collar. I felt comfortable in it right away, like it was made for me.

I am going to get inexpensive, fake emerald jewelry and green pumps (not super high heels because I want to dance at my daughter’s wedding). I am going with green accents, because pine green is the color of the bridesmaid dresses and a signature color of the event.

I am praying I don’t look like a nun or one of the bad witches in the “Wizard of Oz.”

I am hopeful I will be able to stand and perhaps take a few steps in my new green heels without falling down.

But most of all, I hope my daughter has the most incredible day of her life. I’m not so sure about me, but I know, she will be beautiful.

Mary Pat Rowland is the managing editor for Foster’s Daily Democrat and can be reached at mprowland@fosters.com.